


a place where life runs at a different pace

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angsty Schmoop, I fail at writing PWP, M/M, Public Sex, Public Transportation, subway!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They see each other on the subway nearly every day, sneaking glances and covertly checking each other out. One day, one of them works up the courage to get up close and personal. Subway!sex ensues.</p><p>Prompted by Enza, my official Ziam-muse!</p>
            </blockquote>





	a place where life runs at a different pace

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song _the time of your life_ by Alanis Morissette.

Maybe it's kind of sad, how the best part of Zayn's day is the subway ride home. Not just because it's the end of another day working a menial job at a mundane office – because anyone would be glad to say good night to the curly-haired receptionist if they were working Zayn's job – but because going home means spending fifteen glorious minutes staring at the tall muscled stranger on his line. It's not what Zayn expected when he studied at night, pouring over his books and dreaming of being an adult. His dreams didn't involve the huge debt he's been paying back ever since he finished uni, or the apartment that won't heat up in winter and won't cool down in summer. They didn't involve fights with the land lord about his son ( _this is a single person apartment Mr Malik, as you are well aware_ – like he's got anywhere else to leave his kid when his mother dumps him on Zayn's doorstep), they never involved being twenty-eight and so goddamn _tired_.

Zayn loves his son but in retrospect he should've been smarter than to think that fucking that hot blonde at a frat party wasn't a big deal, that the chance of actually getting her knocked up wasn't so big that he should've said no when she'd wrapped her legs around him and urged him _c'mon c'mon_ when he didn't have a rubber. Being drunk and horny wasn't an excuse, he'd been vocal enough about that before when he'd seen kids – some barely out of high-school – pushing a pram, he'd pitied them and thought them fools and yet he'd barely been twenty-three when a tiny bundle was pushed into his arms and Zayn Malik was suddenly not just a uni student but a father.

For all the fights and pointing blame at each other that they'd been through at the start, Alice doesn't make a bad mother. They don't love each other, but Zayn cares for her as the mother of his child, and they are civil when they have to do the whole parent thing, figure out schools and names and insurances and how much alimony Zayn will be paying every month, numbers and agreements that still make his head spin sometimes. They share custody and they tolerate each other even if Zayn wants to yell at her sometimes when she drops off their kid unannounced to go on a date, even if Alice undoubtedly wants to yell at him in return when he brings him home late and interferes with her plans. They aren't great but they make it work and Jake is five years old and happy and he doesn't seem to notice how tired Zayn is and that is exactly how he wants it.

Zayn doesn't hate his life but he doesn't love it, it just _is_ and he suffers through the bad parts because the good parts more than make up for it. Playing baseball with Jake or watching the Man U game when his son is curled up and sleeping against his chest outweigh the fact that Zayn hates his job (even if Haz, the receptionist, brightens his day with cups of coffee and lame e-mails) and is too tired to even have a semblance of a love life. By the time he gets home and rips off his tie, changes out of his monkey suit with the badge that says _HI I'M ZAYN_ even if he doesn't work with the customers directly, when he's cooked dinner and showered and cleared away the toys that Jake has left behind, he is too tired for even a wank most nights.

On the days that he does get to jerk off – mostly when he's combining a wake-up shower with some quick, practiced strokes that'll take the edge off and make the day bearable – he's thinking about the handsome stranger that he sees five days a week, but has never even said hello to. Maybe it's a little creepy that he imagines his full lips (so pretty when he smiles and nods at Zayn) stretched around his dick, fantasizes about him using his upper body strength to pin Zayn to the wall and make him fall apart. He doesn't even know the guy, he might be happily married for all Zayn knows, though he's not wearing a ring and he should probably feel bad that he knows that, that he knows all those little things and has them filed away for his private time. The guy is a veritable porn star in Zayn's mind, yet he can't even blush when the other sees him staring and smiles a small, amused smile. 

When he calls good night to Harry after a particularly grueling day of work, Zayn is almost disappointed to find that the stranger's spot on the subway is empty. He contemplates sitting down, figures that sitting there just because _he_ always does might just be a little _too_ creepy, even if he's been wondering how he smells (though he figures the seat will smell like a mix of chewing gum and sweat rather than anything else). The seats fill up quickly, people pushing past him left and right until he's cornered by an obese man and two teenage girls, and Zayn sighs as he rests his head against the compartment door, hoping that he'll be home soon.

He's _not_ wondering where Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome is when he suddenly feels a weight pressed against his back, too close for comfort until a low voice murmurs from behind him. It's strange how he relaxes when he's never heard him speak before, when he has only given voice to him in his head and let's be frank, most of that time he was grunting or moaning and not whispering in his ear while hands come to circle his hips. At least, the whispers Zayn's conjured up were decidedly more dirty sounding than the velvet _“Were you looking for me?”_

He presses a smile to the inside of his upper arm where he's come to steady himself, wants to turn around and face him but the other is pressed too close, makes a discouraging sound that Zayn's body responds to before he even realizes it. “Maybe” He says, receives a low hum in response. “Did you want me to be?”

The others hands slide further to his front, the stranger's hips slotting themselves in place behind Zayn, making heat spark down his spine when he feels the jostle of the subway press them together. _“I'd be disappointed if you were eye-fucking any other random strangers”_ The man says, and Zayn finds another shiver rolling down his spine when lips briefly brush against the shell of his ear. “Just you” He sighs out, bites down a slight groan when the man behind him rolls his hips into him when the subway decelerates, barely hears the growled out _“Good”_ over the voice of the speaker that announces their next stop in a tinny pre-recorded voice.

It's so crowded in the compartment that people don't pay attention to others, Zayn knows that from experience. The people riding the subway at this particular hour are either too numb from work or too occupied with their own business to even nod hello to one another, even though Zayn knows most of them by face since they've commuted back and forth for several years now. It doesn't make the situation any less risqué, because only one person would have to look up to see that the tall stranger has unbuttoned Zayn's black slacks and moved his hands inside his boxer briefs. Zayn can feel his heart beating wildly in his rib cage but while the whole experience is surreal and indecent it is also mind-numbingly _hot_.

The other's grip is firm around his cock, pressure tight at the base, fingers curled around him in a way that makes his knees buckle, makes him grateful for the way the man has him pressed against the wall, his thigh perched in between Zayn's legs while his forehead and chest are becoming a lot more acquainted with the inside of a subway compartment than he'd ever thought desirable. He finds himself grinding a little against the man's front, pushing into him then into his hand where he can feel the other's fingers becoming slippery with his pre-come. Zayn tries to hold back the needy little sounds that threaten to escape, bites down a whine when he twists his wrist at the tip fast enough to make him stumble. If it weren't for the fingers pressed bruisingly into his thigh he'd slide to the floor in a boneless heap, and from the soft, melodious laughter behind him the stranger knows it too.

They reach another station just when Zayn's found a good rhythm, when he's riding that fine line between wanting this to last forever and wanting to come, leisurely fucking himself into the fingers wrapped around him. The subway brakes rather abruptly and Zayn finds his back pressed into the taller male's front, looks up into dark brown eyes that regard him hotly as that glorious hand disappears from his trousers. Zayn wants to whine and beg him not to stop, actually opens his mouth to protest but before he can make a sound the man swoops in and claims his mouth in a searing kiss.

He relinquishes his groans to his mouth then, turns in his embrace to wrap his arms around him when a tongue demands entrance to his mouth, swallows all the noises that Zayn offers up. He wants to do something as ridiculous as wrap his legs around him, rut shamelessly against him like a teenager, but even if he's feeling particularly careless right now he knows better than to go for a quick fuck without any prep, and he's no closer to carrying around condoms these days than he was at twenty-two.

And there are too many people here that Zayn really does not want to give a peepshow for.

They end up kissing frantically, then languidly, for the next three stops, and Zayn feels kind of drunk when the man pulls away and grins at him, has to blink twice before he notices that most of the people have left. He's vaguely wondering if they've vanished into puffs of smoke because of the fire that's threatening to consume him, then notices that he's missed his stop and that most people apparently leave to go home rather than stay on subways to make out with total strangers. He can't say that he feels particularly bad however, about the turn his life has taken in the past half hour.

“ _Looks like we're alone”_ The stranger says, and Zayn finds himself licking his lips, smiling back up at him in a way that betrays the heat still coiling in his stomach. “Yeah” He replies, nods at the question in the other's eyes, thinks that perhaps he should be more surprised when he's tugged into the other's lap and fingers sneak back into his underwear. Zayn just laughs, winds fingers in dark blonde hair and hears his laugh morph into a groan when a thumb brushes over his slit. He hiccups out an almost dazed “Oh God” and hears a rich chuckle close to his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin as the man whispers _“Yeah?”_ like he's actually waiting for permission to continue.

“I'm Zayn” He says instead, somewhat stupidly, like introductions or names matter when the stranger already has his fingers around him again. But he gets another laugh in response, like he's delighted, and his name rolls off his tongue in a purr. _“Liam.”_

He manages to hold back the 'at least I know what name to scream out when you're fucking me later', but it's only partially due to his self restraint and partially because of the rather bold movement of Liam's hand, that is tugging Zayn's pants down so he's half naked, straddling Liam, and his ass is only covered by the knee-length trench coat Harry insisted was creepy – but that Zayn really loves right now even if he _is_ somewhat of a flasher with his cock jutting up against Liam's stomach.

“Cheeky” He mutters, smiling at him, lips forming a quiet 'oh' when Liam brushes fingertips against his entrance, adds enough pressure that if Zayn sank down he'd be able to take him in. Part of him wants to, makes him shift and whine again, because it's been so long, but his thighs strain to keep himself up because _it's been so long_. Liam's hand falls away from his dick and it's all Zayn can do to keep from dipping his own hand down to keep stroking when he sees him fumble around in his jacket pocket. He retrieves a small packet of lube and Zayn should not be feeling so relieved, or so thankful when he slicks his fingers up and slides one inside of him without further questions.

Zayn rocks up and back down, bares his neck in invitation and Liam accepts, biting down the column of his throat hard enough to leave marks, smiles against his skin when Zayn's hum vibrates against his lips. “Do you-” Zayn starts, lifts up then sinks down on two fingers, huffs out a laugh because Liam's being sneaky even if he's careful too. “Do you always carry lube around to fuck strangers on the subway?”

Liam laughs against his skin, sucks a mark onto his collarbone when he's loosened Zayn's tie and undone the top button of his shirt. _“Only the really handsome ones”_ He says, and Zayn wonders if part of the heat swirling in his belly is jealousy. 

“Oh” He says, rhythm faltering for a moment until Liam pushes up and presses fingers against that bundle of nerves inside of him. 

“ _Only you”_ He reassures him, and Zayn kind of has to kiss him after that.

“ _I want to fuck you”_ Liam admits to the sharp angles of Zayn's jaw not five minutes later, and Zayn snickers despite the three fingers thrusting up inside of him. “Really” He deadpans, slight yelp following when Liam pointedly presses against his prostate again, though he's chuckling too. “Wouldn't have figured that out for myself” He teases, and Liam looks entirely too pleased when Zayn grips his erection to completely pull off the slight pouting set to his lips.

Zayn thumbs at the slit and watches pre-come bubble up, vision only obscured when Liam rolls a condom down onto his length, Zayn's fingers spreading more lube down his latex-covered shaft. _“Been wanting to for ages”_ Liam continues, and Zayn loves when a man talks to him like that, loves it even more when he's simultaneously pulled up and then _down_ as he speaks. He spreads his thighs as he sinks down, feels him slide in inch by thick inch until he's so full he can feel him with every breath. Liam is considerate, lets him take a moment to adjust before thrusting up lazily, moving up inside of him like they have all the time in the world.

The coat covering their thighs is pretense more than anything, from the way Liam rocks up and Zayn thrusts down it's pretty clear what's happening even if there aren't any people around to see the glaze in Liam's eyes or the way that Zayn's lips are slightly puffed from biting back the sounds. There could be camera's on the tube, or people catching flashes as the underground whizzes past stations other subway trains would stop at, but none of it seems to register. It's like Zayn's world has shrunk to the feel of Liam hot and hard inside of him, to the tug in his belly when he catches sight of a smile. He arches his back and angles his hips and nothing else in the world matters when Liam fucks up into him, hitting his prostate in a way that makes his fingers tingle, makes him slump against him when the pleasure becomes too much and his limbs refuse to function. 

Liam's pace is steady as the thump-thump of the subway moving through London , making Zayn's breath match the rhythm as he's lulled into what could almost be a sleep-like state if it weren't for the thrum of bliss that's sparking up in his body with every thrust. He doesn't want this to ever end, doesn't want to go back to his empty apartment and his worn-down life, but no matter how much he clings to Liam's lapels he can't stop his body from hurtling towards orgasm the way the train speeds towards its final destination. It's almost with a sob that he finally succumbs, body crumpling against Liam's as he paints the other's jacket with his come, Liam's hand faltering from where he was trying to jack him off as he bucks up once, twice more, then groans out his release. 

Zayn finds himself irrationally frustrated that he can't feel Liam come deep inside of him, can't take him home with him, and Liam notices the look on his face, frowns as he wipes his hand on his ruined shirt before bringing it to Zayn's face. _“Hey?”_ He sounds gentle, if a little worried, and Zayn tries to smile despite himself because this is so not the way you want a hot hook-up to end, but that's just it, he kind of really doesn't want it to end. “Sorry” He whispers, ducks his head to hide the look in his eyes, thumb catching some of his semen on Liam's coat, urge to rub it in and leave a stain making him sigh softly, a sound that's echoed by the taller male. _“Are you regretting this already?”_ He asks, and his voice is too kind, too carefully neutral for a man who still has his dick inside of Zayn's ass. 

“No” He reassures him, looks up only to glance away with a shy, somewhat embarrassed smile. “I kind of.. just don't want this to end.”

Liam's laugh rumbles against his throat when he leans to softly bite at Zayn's skin again, and he tenses until Liam brushes his hands up and down his sides, wiggles his hips in a reminder of the fact that he's still inside of him. _“I think we're running out of stations”_ He says, and Zayn wants to scowl, but the lips are back on his skin, soothing against his jaw, then almost questioning against the corner of his mouth, like Liam is worried he won't turn his head to meet his lips. 

(He does)

“I know” Zayn sighs out against those lips, pushes his own mouth harder against Liam's like he can steal those words back, Liam whose lips are so soft and whose smile tastes just like Zayn expected it to. 

“ _And I kind of want a shower, because I'm pretty sure I've got come in my hair”_ He sounds amused and Zayn realizes that oh, his hands were kind of covered in it when he went to bury them in Liam's hair on instinct during that kiss. He blushes and Liam's laugh deepens. _“So what do you say?”_

“Huh?”

“ _Will you come home with me, Zayn from the Hammersmith and City line?”_


End file.
